


New and Old

by UserExeNotFound



Series: Countryhumans Oneshot Collection, crossposted from Wattpad [1]
Category: CountryHumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: F/M, poor man is just so desperate for his one past gf smh, why did i make USSR lowkey horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UserExeNotFound/pseuds/UserExeNotFound
Summary: USSR has a complicated history with Germans. But it's fine. He's fixing that history and making sure it doesn't repeat itself, comforting himself in the progress.
Relationships: Germany/Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (Anthropomorphic), Past USSR/German Countries
Series: Countryhumans Oneshot Collection, crossposted from Wattpad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137527
Kudos: 9





	New and Old

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings all,
> 
> Alright, before you start judging me, just read the chapter (unless you don't like the ship and/or aren't curious). It will (hopefully) explain my weird idea.
> 
> I tried very hard to make this normally Non-Con and actually supposed to be a gross and bad ship, cute and wholesome. I really hope I succeeded.
> 
> This is not pedophilia or Non-con. I can't explain it but everything is okay here. Just believe me.
> 
> For the sake of plot, every German is female here, not only Germany and Reich.
> 
> Sincerely, Exe.
> 
> {Former Title: Cornflowers}

The pebbles crunched with every step he took. If he would be on his way to a different location, for a different purpose Soviet would have found the sound calming and enjoyed it. Perhaps it was his form of 'ASMR' or whatever America always called listening to calming sounds. But really, nothing would be able to calm his nerves right now.

With every meter he got closer to his destination his heart beat louder, his hands got more sweaty and his body picked up a shake he could not lose.

God, if another country felt how he felt they would probably think he was about to be killed, killed for his crimes, when in reality it was far, far from that.

Or perhaps it wasn't? For Soviet it did feel like he was about to walk into death's hands. He didn't know why he felt that way. The last time he felt like this was when he was about to ask Reich out and-

No. Reich is gone. Reich will never come back. He had understood that when he got to know her, when he decided to ask her out.

She was so similar to Weimar, even if she came after Reich. Her flag was the same as Weimars, everything was just like Weimar. She didn't seem to have anything left from her time as Reich. Not even the memories they made.

He swallowed and clenched the single cornflower in his hand once and looked at it. It was her national flower. At least that hadn't changed. Reich had always looked so pretty with that prussian blue colored flower perched behind her ear, the silky red hair softly swaying in the wind.

The Russian had always found it weird. How such a brutal, unforgiving woman could be so gentle at the same time. He had seen Reich kill people. Many people. Had watched her torture her enemies, plan her attacks. Had watched as she invaded his country, attacked his people, stabbed him in the back.

At the same time he had remembered the times they would sit and cuddle when it was raining, or when winter knocked on the Germans door. Reich had hated the cold so bad. She had always hid herself under the covers with him and in those moments he would forget how cruel and evil she actually was. And when they left their comfort zone, he would remember that she would be awaited in hell. That she will probably have her own personal throne there.

But he knew he would love her still. He would love her cruel smiles, her flowing, red hair, her ruby eyes, the beautiful memories.

That was gone now. Instead of red hair it was black. The open, flowing hair was a messy bun now. The appreciated little gift of a cornflower a lost memory.

But that was what he came for afterall. To regain memories. To make new ones with this new form of her.

Yes, Reich may be gone, but in a way she wasn't. She was still with him, just that she wasn't so aggressive anymore. Just that she wasn't so racist anymore. Just that she wasn't red anymore but rather a mix of black, red and yellow. Just that she wasn't his anymore.

Slowly, Soviet moved his hand to the petals of the cornflower, carefully brushing over them.

She was delicate now. Easier to hurt. He had realized that when he had nearly crushed her wrist once, holding it in his big hand, engulfing it. Since that incident he hadn't even tried to touch her if she didn't initiate it.

Reich had been so small too, so weak looking, even if she had some serious killer hips and fairly large breasts as well. Another difference. Reich had nice curves, but she was more on the slim side. Still, both Reich had been so tiny as well. However you could have thrown Reich against a wall made of hard stone and she would have stood up and grinned. You could have crushed her fingers and she would have still held a weapon in them. You could have given her a concussion and she would still hold her head high and hold that damn gun against it to-

No, she wasn't Reich, wasn't even close to Reich. She was delicate, like the cornflower in his hands he desperately had tried not to crush while walking all the way here.

He needs to calm down and stop thinking about Reich, before he loses himself again.

Soviet looked up from the flower, recognizing the shop she worked at. Stopping before the door. After Soviet had joined the Allies to defeat Reich when she had finally lost even the last bit of sanity she still possessed and they had drove her so far that she had shot, and with that, shattered herself, he had helped to rebuild the places she had destroyed in her frenzy to take revenge on everyone and everything.

That was when they had found her.

France had wanted to shatter her while she hadn't reformed yet, ending the German legacy once and for all. America had been on neutral ground, leaning towards the opinion of his mother.

Soviet had been furious about the idea of shattering someone who had done nothing to them. Sure, Reich had betrayed him, had killed millions of people, tried to wipe out an entire race, had hurt and murdered other countries, but now she was just a ball, hadn't even changed into the pitch black color a ball would take before reforming and taking on a new flag.

She had still been Reich, but Soviet knew she would reform as someone else.

The Germans never reformed as a past form. He knew that from deep within his heart. From experience, knowing every form of this country that ever existed. Had 'dated' nearly every form, even in his own past one.

Soviet had known that, if they shattered her ball now so that she would never reform, they would kill an innocent being.

When he explained his thoughts, Britain had agreed with him and even America had changed his view. Only France had been even more angry than before.

They had proposed that they would keep an eye on the ball at all times until it reformed, and when it did, they would give the new country a job and always have someone looking after it. Just to make sure. And should it ever even seem like it moved into the wrong direction they would immediately shatter her, completely reformed or not. And with "shatter her" he meant not only the country, but also the ball.

When they had seen her reform with Weimars flag, they knew they definitely had a chance at keeping her peaceful.

Soviet had been so happy. The warm feeling in his belly rising and growing the more she took form, and when she finally stood before them, opening her eyes, he had wanted to scoop her up into his arms and kiss her, swearing her to never let her go again.

Then she had asked them who they were, where she was, what had happened, and his heart sank, and his hopes and dreams burst into tiny particles in his mind.

First they had a rocky start. Soviet had always tried to make her remember. Told her how she used to be. You could say he tried to force her into being like Reich used to be when she was sane.

After a rather loud talk with the Allies he had stopped and apologized. He had kept his distance afterwards, only talking to her when necessary or when she spoke to him first. But he knew, he knew how she stared at him with the same look Reich used to have.

And when she came to him, asking to get to know him, reasoning that, "We used to date, right? Then I want to get to know you. I want to know who the person she gave her heart to is.", his heart surged.

That's how it started. They talked more, spent more time in general. Soviet would take her to the places he went with Reich, showing her around all over again, and when she asked, only when she asked, he would tell her what they used to do here.

As he got to know this new form of Reich more, he felt himself falling for her all over again. He learned about the small things that she had in common with Reich, that hadn't changed. He learned about her ruby eyes. He learned that she loved to paint. He learned about her obsession with air force jets and, "One day the Allies will allow me to build one of the Luftwaffe jets I designed, and they will be so impressed that I will finally get out of that repair shop and do the engineering and inventing I want to do!"

Thinking of her made Soviet so much calmer, he realized. Taking another deep breath he opened the door, listening to the little bell jingle, signaling a new customer, and walked inside.

It was cool in the shop, but not cool enough to freeze him. It was the exact level of cool you needed in summers to take a little breather. She liked that temperature he remembered, she had liked that temperature as Reich as well.

The shop itself was very homey too. A lot of shelves stood in the room, similar to a library, each shelf containing items that were either given to her for further use by customers or that she made in her spare time. In some shelves he could see toys made of wood, some even painted, in others small planes, ships and cars made of metal or plastic.

In the middle, right when you come inside was a small free area. Some comfy couches and armchairs stood there, a small wooden table in the middle with magazines on top. To round it up, potted plants decorated the whole shop. When you looked straight through the shop there stood the counter, with an entry to the back behind it.

"Just give me a minute, please!", sounded from somewhere in the back of the shop and Soviet couldn't keep a soft smile from forming on his face.

He walked over to the counter, placing the cornflower into the glass full of water and even more cornflowers she kept there. It was okay. He would take it back and place it behind her ear later.

Then he moved towards the back, his smile turned into a grin when he saw her, carrying around five boxes in her small hands. He knew she couldn't see where she was going or that he was standing here.

Soviet grabbed all but one box, heaving them into his arms and grinning at her: "How many times do I have to tell you to just go several times instead of carrying all in one go, маленькая пиранья? **(little piranha)** "

She huffed, looking into his eyes. "I can carry them! They aren't that heavy!", she replied with a pout. Soviet knew she was blushing, knew because of all the years with Reich. That woman had literally been red, he was trained in seeing if the tone of red got any darker.

They walked back towards the counter, Soviet stealing her last box as well during the move. He put them next to the shelf that stood nearest and then turned towards her. He grabbed the single cornflower he bought and placed it behind her ear, watching as she grew more red but smiled softly.

"Sowjet..."

"Германия. **(Germany)** "

She giggled slightly at the use of her name in his language, which made his heart beat even harder.

"You know you don't have to bring me a cornflower everytime you come here, right?", Germany raised a brow asking that and looked at the tall Russian.

"I want to.", he replied, taking in her image.

She had her black hair put up in the usual messy bun, the scar on her face that went from her temple through her left eye and disappeared behind her left ear standing out less than months before, where it had still been fresh. Her ruby red eyes glimmering while her glasses slipped down her nose, her lips forming a small cute smile, hiding the sharp teeth Soviet knew she had, and the small oil stain on her cheek from working on all kinds of machines. Now she also had the cornflower behind her ear, giving a nice cool contrast to all the warm colors of her being.

The Russian felt his face grow hot, his hands get sweaty again, and his heart beat out of his chest.

It was such an adorable sight. She was so small that she didn't even reach his shoulders, being on eye level with his rib cage. He imagined her wearing some of his clothes instead of the black button up and the cargo pants with the camouflage pattern and the black boots. Imagined her in his white t-shirt. How it would slip down and expose her collarbones, drape over her like a pretty dress, how she would smell just like him, and how she wouldn't need to wear pants, only running around in her underwear and how that would make her so much more accessible at all times-

He spluttered and coughted, turning away from her. His legs felt like jelly and he let himself sink into a squat, hiding his face in his elbow and being glad that his ushanka covered him too, just to feel safer.

He felt ashamed for going into that direction with his thoughts. They hadn't even kissed, much less decided that they were dating! They were that weird middle thing, where both knew that the other had feelings for them too but they didn't want to risk it, didn't want to go there.

The middle between being in a relationship and just being more than friends or enemies.

Soviet knew that feeling, both as the Russian Empire and as him now, would probably know that feeling in the future too.

Had experienced it with Prussia, loving her from a distance. Had experienced it with the German Empire, loving her, sometimes hate-fucking her, even as they were enemies fighting to the death. Had experienced it with Weimar, going as far as to being friends with benefits with her, just shy of dating her. Had experienced it with Reich, at the very beginning of her existence and the very end, dating her in the middle. And now he experienced it with Germany too.

"Sowjet? Ist alles gut? **(Is everything okay?)** "

He swallowed again, standing up to his full height and turning to her. He nodded once looking into her eyes again.

"Are you sure? Your face is redder than usual..."

Soviet let his eyes open wider, not enough to make her realize his shock. Breathing heavily he started shaking again.

She realised. She knew when he was blushing. Just like she used too. Just like Reich used to. But Reich isn't coming back. Reich is gone because he was too incompetent to make sure she was okay. Because he didn't try harder to help her. Because he wasn't good enough-

Sometimes he would get like this. Soviet would remember Reich and start shaking. It happened at the most random of times. Reich would realize. Reich would have been able to calm him down. Reich would have made him feel better again. Reich. Reich would- Reich-

Oh god, he needs Reich. He needs Reich to calm him down. Reich. Reich knows what to do. Reich- where is Reich- Oh god- **Reich-**

He was shaking and coughing. Was breathing heavily. He heard himself mutter her name over and over; "Рейх, Рейх. О Боже, Рейх. Пожалуйста, вернись Рейх- **(Reich, Reich. Oh god, Reich. Please come back Reich-)** "

The Russian could feel a pair of hands pressing on his shoulders, he tried to get out of the grip, but his body wouldn't move, refused to move. The hands shoved him around until he felt a surface press against his knees.

They buckled and with the help of the hands he let himself down on the surface, realizing it was an armchair.

The hands turned from their forceful pressing to gentle strokes over his shoulders, slowly moving to his face, caressing it. He felt one of the hands stroking to the back of his head, pressing it forward onto the chest of a small, warm body, then resuming to gently brush under his ushanka and then through his hair.

Soviet could hear a soft humming sound coming from above him, the chest under him vibrating because of it. Gradually he calmed down, raising his arms to embrace the body and press it against him as hard as he could without the hug being suffocating. His arms reached easily around the body, his hands placing themselves on their hip bones. They were so tiny that each of his hands could easily fit one of them whole.

"Are you okay now, Sowjet?"

With a shaky breath he nodded, raising his head away from the chest and slightly looking up to Germany. She was still stroking his hair, his face. He gently stroked her hip bones, feeling her shiver. Then moved his hands to take hers.

They were really soft. He asked himself a lot how she had kept them from growing as calloused and scarred as his, working the job she did. She would always shrug and just point at her arms, that were covered in bandages, saying: "My arms take all the damage my hands should."

Soviet had a slight hunch the scars there weren't just from working with machines, were from guilt, from her doing this to herself, but he would let that hunch be quiet for now. They had time.

She sighed looking at him, before taking one of her hands from his, raising it to her ear and grabbing the cornflower. She stuck it into his breast pocket, smoothed over it and took his hand again.

As she moved closer and tugged him into a hugging position again, she whispered: "I swear upon the cornflowers you bring me everyday that I will never leave you. I verspreche dir, Sowjet, ich werde alles tun um bei dir zu bleiben. Alles. **(I promise you, Soviet, I will do everything to stay with you. Everything.)** "

And as he sat there, hugging Germany's smaller body to himself, all he could think of was that he too, would never let her go again. He would do everything to stay with her too. And he hoped that, should any of the two shatter again, should they fail in holding up their promise, that they would remember the memories they made. That they didn't have to experience the pain of losing someone while they are right there, in front of you.

He hoped that. Upon the cornflowers he gave her every time he saw her.


End file.
